Fall From Glory
by Babymamhu
Summary: Megatron resides in solitude after disbanding the Decepticons. He is relatively accepting of his situation, until he meets an unlikely companion while salvaging. Takes place after Prime and Predacons Rising.
1. Chapter 1

_I lie awake on a long, dark night_

 _I can't seem to tame my mind_

 _Slings and arrows are killing me inside_

 _Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine_

 _No, I can't accept the life that's mine_

-Creed, Weathered

* * *

Helplessness. Fear. Despair. They oozed within the autobot's spark, spreading, carving a tingling trail down limbs to numb servos and peds. Peds that were running, stumbling, and servos that grasped at charred rubble, slipping from the energon that seeped down his shoulder. Not just his energon, but also the energon from his comrades, his friends, who were slaughtered before him. He had run away as they fell. The guilt burned worse than his wounds, burning trails of liquid shame from his optics. And yet, he still ran.

The mech could hear _it_ in the bleak darkness that was occasionally lit with the flames of war. That deep, rumbling laughter, sick in its amusement. The sound echoed ever closer, driving him forward, away. It fed the buzz that overtook his processor, fed the frantic movements to escape.

A booming blast shook the ground suddenly, catching the autobot by surprise. He was thrown forward with a cry, falling face first into something that squelched hideously as he landed. The flames from the explosion barely lit up the area around the autobot, but it was enough for him to look up and stare right into the dull and lifeless optics of the mech he had landed in.

He tried to scramble up and out of the mech's half-hollow chassis, but he could find no solid purchase in the energon-slick gore. The buzzing grew louder in his processor and, completely horrified and overwhelmed, the autobot purged his tanks all over the lifeless husk. Still, he managed to pull himself off of the grey corpse, crawling away and attempting to stand despite the slick puddles of energon.

Footsteps, rumbling the ground with each slow, purposeful step, caused the autobot to redouble his efforts to stand and run. Terror laced his systems, potent as any poison, clouding his thoughts and leaving him a slipping, shivering mess. The footsteps got closer and closer, and the mech had managed to pull himself to a dry place when they stopped, right behind him. He froze in his efforts, optics wide, as a chuckle sounded, right there, deep and malicious.

Slowly, the shivering autobot turned his head to look up at the towering figure who had slaughtered his regime. He felt his spark shrink in helpless terror as he met the other's optics. Red, bright and burning, almost shimmering with a sadistic sort of glee. A distant explosion lit the sky above them once more, casting a sickly-orange hue upon the dull silver of the mech's armor, drenched in fresh energon. The sharp, jagged teeth, set in an amused smirk, glinted.

The autobot whimpered, the buzz deafening. Please, no. Not like this. Not like this…!

He turned his body towards the towering mech, reaching out, pleading, with a shaking servo. His wide optics shed fresh tears as he was met face-to-face with the barrel of a charging fusion cannon. It whirred to life, the purple light growing brighter and burning his face with heat, evaporating the tears. The autobot sobbed, a wretched, high-pitched wail, as helpless terror shot through every inch of his being. His servo still reached out, desperate to be given mercy.

"Pl-please… Not like this! P-please! I-I d-don't want… I don't w-want to _die!"_

The towering mech didn't blink, didn't move. He made no signs of change, except for in his optics. They burned brighter, deeper, with an all consuming _hatred_.

"…You are _pathetic._ "

The autobot wailed in terror as he saw the concentrated blast travel down the barrel, the deep whir and blast cutting the cry short.

There was a searing, unimaginable pain all through his face and head.

Then… _nothing._

Megatron awoke with a start, as he always did. Coolant drenched his frame as phantom pains that were not his own slowly left his body, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. He sat up and rubbed his helm, his whole head still throbbing from the… dream.

Unicron's torments still tortured Megatron, even after all this time. His time spent with the Destroyer of Worlds was still fresh in his mind, tingling at the edges of his processor. He could still hear the voice of his once-captor, taunting him with mild amusement:

' _How interesting would it be if you were to suffer all that you had once inflicted upon others? Prepare to feel pain beyond anything you have ever known, mortal.'_

 _Megatron smirked. Unicron wanted to intimidate him with the threat of pain, of torture, but he was no stranger to this game. He would not scare so easily, even when trapped in this helpless position._

 _'It is true, Unicron, that you have complete control over me, but do not think for a moment that I will cow over any level of pain. The strength of my will was forged in the lowest pits of Kaon; You_ will not _break me!'_

 _The words were snarled, piercing with an endless depth of rage, Megatron's own seemingly endless pool of power. His red optics crackled with tangible energy, a challenge ringing throughout the un-space between himself and Unicron. The Destroyer didn't even twitch._

 _'Foolish being. For your ignorance I, who feed from the very chaos of the cosmos, will gift you with a taste of eternity. An eternity of pain.'_

 _Megatron readied himself, prepared to take anything Unicron could give. Pain had molded him in the beginning, had guided him. It had fueled his rage, his unbridled hatred of those who dared to belittle him. Unicron was no different from the others._

 _Then he felt it, a powerful explosion ripping through his spark. There was physical pain, unfathomable, impossible to escape, but it was nothing. Megatron could not feel it._

 _There was only the sinking terror, the biting grief, the helpless rage, the feeling of sinking into nothing, of disappearing forever. Of not doing enough, of leaving others behind, of being inadequate in every sense of the word- In but a matter of nano-klicks, Megatron had felt the combined emotions and thoughts of thousands of sparks being snuffed, at once. He experienced their last moments, in the most ultimately intimate of ways: through their very own sparks. Their deaths were now his own death, their screams indefinable from his own. The sound echoed through the un-space, the lines of his existence permanently blurred by the suffering he had caused._

 _And suddenly, Megatron was undone._

How foolish Megatron had been then, assuming he could endure any pain Unicron had suffered him under. In a way his assumption was correct, because the physical pain was still something he could handle, something he had always endured.

No, it was just the all-consuming feeling of total _helplessness_ that Megatron could not endure. He felt it, _experienced_ it, every time he closed his optics to recharge. Megatron saw from their optics and their sparks, in the last moments of their lives, a pair of hateful, unforgiving optics. _His_ optics.

Megatron swung his legs over the berth and drew a clawed servo down his face, a deep sigh resonating in his chest. He didn't quite understand why he was still having these… experiences, because he was now beyond Unicron. But it had continued, and gave no indication of letting up. Perhaps it was his processor trying to purge the information Unicron had forced upon him. Every night it was a new mech, a new victim. A new memory. Megatron chuckled, a dry, rasping sound that lacked any humor.

This was his penance now, and he had no choice but to endure.

As the lingering emotions from his 'dream' finally subsided, Megatron went to check his energon reserves in the locker across the room. There were three cubes left and only a handful of energon crystals, just as he had left them the day before. His optics narrowed in thought. It was time to gather more energon, and perhaps a few supplies. Already Megatron felt his mood lighten; any excuse to move around and focus anywhere but inward was a welcome distraction. Self-pity did not suit him.

Needing little else, Megatron stashed the energon cubes in his subspace and un-locked the med-bay door. His current domain was an old autobot bunker, the med-bay being his living space. It had two doors, and easy access to the bunker exits. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps his space was too easily accessible, but Megatron seriously doubted anyone was tracking him, or would survive if they somehow found him. His new body seemed to be virtually indestructible.

He came up into the Cybertronian sun, the two moons pale against a silver-blue sky. In the distance was his destination, a destroyed city not yet salvaged by the Autobots. It sat between two barren mountains, and Megatron assumed from the large, toppled structures that it had once been quite a city to behold. Now it was simply a rusting relic of the past, another reminder to all Megatron had done.

The sun was almost at its peak, and Megatron dared not fly. He didn't want attention, he wanted to be alone. So he began his descent from the small mountain where the bunker resided, heading towards the destroyed city.

Something was following him, but it only served to pique his curiosity. Megatron had long since gotten what he came for, the energon crystals secure in a transporting gurney, along with a few other things of value. Now he was simply considering whether he should head back and see if it would stop following him or to get the creature to show itself.

From the scuffling noises it made he could tell it was small, and clumsy too, as it kept knocking over random debris. Megatron swore it chirped a few times, but the fallen city made many noises so he was not sure. After it somehow managed to knock down a large support beam he decided to lure it out, if only to get it to stop being so loud in its clumsiness.

Megatron was on the outskirts of the city furthest from his bunker, in the wreckage of what seemed to be a small, domed archive center. The sun was nearly set, casting long shadows with its pale orange glow. It made the rusty structure seem a brilliant hue of burgundy, the missing windows and ceiling making the contrast from dark to light all the more striking. The former-Decepticon stood in the center, the luminescent light radiating his armor and setting his optics aflame. He stood as still as a statue, staring down at a small shadow that flitted back and forth, almost nervously. Megatron could see it then: two golden optics, staring right back at him.

Slowly, deliberately, Megatron reached into his subspace and pulled out his last cube of energon. He knelt, just as slowly, to one knee, placing the cube on the floor. After sliding it towards the shadow, he withdrew his hand, and waited.

To his surprise, Megatron did not have to wait long. The little shadow snuffled forwards, hesitant but obviously wanting the energon. The gold optics watched him as it paused, waiting just inside the darkness. Then, with a small chirp, it shuffled forwards and into the light.

Megatron's eyebrows raised in surprise: It was a Predacon sparkling.

He didn't move as the tiny thing toddled forwards and stuck it's face into the cube, proceeding to noisily slurp up the contents. He studied it while it ate: the sparkling was a dragon type, similar to Predaking, but with a few differences. And it was indeed tiny; the little Predacon could easily curl up into the palm of his hand. Megatron tilted his head in interest.

"…Where did you come from, young one?"

Gingerly, he ran a digit over one of the folded wings, earning only a mere twitch as the sparkling hungrily licked the bottom of the now empty cube. It backed up, chirping and nudging at Megatron's servo in what seemed to be irritation. He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused as it began to nip at his digits.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

Still, there was something amiss about the sparkling. It's gait was unsteady, as if it were injured. Swiftly, Megatron picked up the squirmy little thing, ignoring it's squawking protests to being man-handled. It didn't take long to find the piece of metal that jutted from it's side; the shape of the protrusion said it was undoubtedly shrapnel, suggesting along with the little nicks here and there that the sparkling had been caught in a blast.

"Intriguing. And here I thought your kind was near indestructible."

The sparkling was complaining very loudly now, clawing and biting Megatron's digits with a fiery fervor that mildly surprised him. Such a wound was not superficial, and energon was now freely flowing around the shrapnel due to the struggle of the tiny Predacon. Megatron chuckled. It would be a pity for such a feisty little thing to bleed out.

He stood with the sparkling still in hand and picked out a few crystals from the gurney, holding them up for the sparkling to inspect. It ceased it's struggle, sniffing the crystals before greedily snatching one up to ravenously crunch on. Unlike normal Cybertronians, a Predacon's systems could easily process raw energon. It seemed a perk to Megatron; processing energon could be time consuming without the proper equipment, a situation Megatron was now familiar with.

The sun was now gone, leaving streaks of gold across the darkening purple sky. Stars were now visible, spotting across the sky behind the two vibrant moons. Night was upon them, and while Megatron had virtually nothing to fear, it wouldn't do to simply loiter around. A decision had to be made concerning the sparkling.

He considered leaving it. The tiny thing was feisty, but Megatron held no illusions as to whether or not it would survive if left behind. It would bleed out soon without the proper treatment. Treatment that Megatron could provide, if he brought the tiny thing with him…

He looked down at it, the sparkling still crunching away in his hand, looking impossibly small and fragile against his large, battle scarred digits. There would be no real purpose in saving it's life. Megatron had no agendas, no need of such a creature to become indebted to him. If he was anything like how he used to be, he would just kill it and be done with the whole situation. Sparklings required a ridiculous amount of work and dedication, dedication Megatron previously never had the time or patience for. But he had time now, lots of it. As for patience… well, everyone had room for improvement. Megatron had always been aware of his shortcomings.

Again he was reminded of all he had ever given in his long life: Death. Destruction. Fear. And here… here was a chance to do something different, to do something completely unexpected of himself. To, perhaps, change the way he had molded himself after all these eons of war. After all, he really had nothing better to do at this point. The prospect of any kind of purpose was, he hesitated to admit, immensely appealing.

The tiny Predacon had stopped bleeding, and it was rather lethargic from all of the crystals Megatron had been feeding it while he contemplated. It blinked up at him with large, sleepy optics, chirping somewhat contentedly. It seemed to be waiting for something, staring up at him with what Megatron could only assume was an expectant expression. The sight was so peculiar, that such a tiny, helpless thing could hope to receive anything from one who could so easily destroy it that Megatron almost smiled. Almost.

"Rest now, young one. You will need to keep your strength for the journey back, however short it may be."

It blinked in response and made no move to run away as Megatron tucked it in next to some salvaged items on the transport gurney. It settled in and chirped sleepily, it's tiny optics fluttering closed after a few moments. Megatron watched it for a moment more before heading off with the gurney in tow, wondering about what exactly he had gotten himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

_I believe in nothing_

 _Not the end and not the start_

 _I believe in nothing_

 _Not the Earth and not the stars_

 _I believe in nothing_

 _Not the day and not the dark_

 _I believe in nothing_

 _But the beating of our hearts_

 _-30 Seconds to Mars, '100 Suns'_

Megatron awoke, distant screams still ringing in his audials. For a moment he was disoriented; something was knocking on his helm, irritatingly. There seemed to be a light hovering over him. Two lights, actually… gold, and shaped almost like optics...

He snapped up, immediately awake and prepared to take down this mysterious intruder. A loud screech made Megatron do a double-take, then he blinked.

Oh yes. The Predacon Sparkling.

The sparkling was chirping angrily, making it's way back onto Megatron's berth, having been thrown off. It was previously sitting on his chassis no doubt, staring right into the mech's faceplate and tapping on his helm. Megatron huffed a sigh at the squawking creature, which was now pawing him urgently. He growled.

"What do you want? Tell me, _now_."

It chirped once and snapped it's jaws a few times, pausing to stare at Megatron expectantly. For a moment they just stared at one another, until Megatron narrowed his eyes in livid realization.

"You awoke me, from _recharge_ … to _feed you_?"

The little Predacon chirped and snapped it's jaws again, faster this time, before jumping from the berth and toddling to the locker across the room. It looked back and waited. _Expectantly_.

Megatron was sorely tempted to just shove the obnoxious little creature inside the locker. At least until he was finished recharging. Gritting his teeth and attempting to reason as to why he should refrain from such an action, Megatron stiffly made his way across the room.

Ensuring the sparkling had a good sized crystal, Megatron scooped up the little creature to return it to it's make-shift nest. The Predacon crunched noisily, wings and tail flicking happily, so secure in the giant servos that had once crushed sparks. Cynical amusement wormed through Megatron's chassis to see such a fragile creature sitting oblivious in the disturbing truth. How falsely comforting for the sparkling, to be so ignorant.

A few solar-cycles had passed since Megatron had found the Predacon sparkling, injured and alone. Fixing up the feisty little creature had been a hassle since it would not sit still, even for a nano-klick. Still, the recovery the little sparkling made was nothing short of impressive. Already there was but a jagged scar on the side injured from the shrapnel, and the creature's lively nature more than indicated it would make a full recovery.

How the Predacon Sparkling had been caught in a blast and how it came to end up in the city's ruins was beyond Megatron. All he knew was that once the sparkling made a complete recovery, they would be relocating to another place of residence. The whole situation was suspicious, and Megatron did not want to be around when the sparkling became missed. Chances were it wasn't; the sparkling would most likely be presumed dead, as it would have been if not for Megatron.

After plopping the wiggly bundle into the nest Megatron promptly resettled in his own berth, fully intending to finish recharging. The sparkling would be satisfied for a little while, at least. Megatron dimmed his optics, removing any thoughts from his processor while listening to the tiny crunching noises in the background. The room dimmed with the onset of recharge, the warlord becoming neither awake nor offline. It was the only time he was truly untroubled, this miniscule time between unconsciousness and wakefulness.

Slowly, the black took him. He could feel the heat of flames, the cries of the wounded, the smell of charred metal… A flood of grief that pulsed from his spark and weighed down upon every inch of his frame…

…But something pulled him back to wakefulness. It was a rapid pulse, small and almost intangible, settling over where his own spark was. Megatron on-lined his optics to see the Predacon sparkling curled up on his chassis, exactly over his spark chamber, peacefully asleep. He could feel the sparkling's own spark, fluttering and tiny, blissfully carefree. It seemed almost a bittersweet contrast, this airy spark resting atop his weathered one.

Megatron considered putting the youngling back in it's own nest, knowing he should break this potential recharge habit before it came to be. He considered closing his optics, leaving the sparkling where it was. But, to Megatron's mild surprise, he did not feel compelled to do either. He wanted stayed in the limbo of indecision, of choosing not to choose. So he watched the sparkling recharge, feeling the impossibly tiny spark turn, thinking of nothing.

The travel had been easy enough. A few cycles had passed from the time they came to the ruins of a rather small mining city, located on top of a rather small energon mine. Small enough to remain unnoticed by others, for a while at least. There was an old training facility on the outskirts, made at the start of the war, serving as their new home. The place was decent enough for being abandoned so long, but still required much maintenance. Most of the useful materials and mechanisms were taken when the inhabitants fled, but the halls were spacious, reminiscent of the Nemesis.

Megatron idly wondered if the facility used to be Decepticon as he walked through the halls, the sparkling galloping and toddling alongside him. There was something he was looking for, something he had seen when they had first come here. The sparkling was much less interested in searching and more for discovering, investigating with curious optics every dark cranny and doorway the duo passed, oftentimes lagging behind or straying off.

Finally, the warlord found it: the door to a take-off deck, a perfect vantage point for surveying the remains.

Lazy rays of pale light trickled in through the partially closed doors, illuminating centuries of dust. The Predacon wiggled excitedly, making to jump through the small opening only to back away at the sight of stern, red optics glaring down. Megatron braced his servos on both doors, pushing against the heavy, aged metal. It slid back slowly, resisting with audial splitting creaks and groans that reverberated through the hollow halls, like screams of defiance.

It soon gave, sliding into the wall with a final screech. The sparkling, who had been trying to hide from the hideous sounds, bounced forwards into the gentle glow of first light; Megatron followed, virtually unaffected.

The two were grey silhouettes on the modest take-off deck, one still and silent as a distant mountain, the other a careening ball of energy. It was the start of a new cycle, the Cybertronian sun a white glow peaking just over the horizon. Condensation from the mines lingered in the air as a slight mist, chilled from the cold night-cycle. It touched down on silver plating as the warlord walked forwards to view the city, whose arches were now kissed by the white glow of sunrise. What was once just a dull heap of scrap illuminated into a speckled light-show, the rays cascading upwards in delicate spectrum to greet the sky.

Megatron watched with a partial attitude; It was nostalgic, the scene conjuring memories he chose to give little acknowledgement.

The sparkling skittered around the deck, occasionally chirping excitedly as he romped around. He would jump up into the air a few feet and glide back down, squawking excitedly and flapping his wings, enjoying the open space. It wasn't long before Megatron took to watching the sparkling instead. He never was one for sight-seeing.

"…You need a designation."

The sparkling chirped at the sound of Megatron's voice, but made no move to come to him. The Predacon was now completely enthralled with some sort of rod, rolling it experimentally back and forth between his claws. Megatron watched, somewhat amused by the simple curiosity of the sparkling. The tiny Predacon was interested in everything, as sparklings usually were, but there was something to the explorations of this one that was different. The sparkling seemed not just wanting to play, but to actually _understand_ what he was playing with.

Feisty. Curious. Mischievous. Headstrong, definitely the opinionated type. Megatron supposed the sparkling's name should resemble his personality, at least in sound or feel. Something was niggling at Megatron, though, that he was missing something, some important piece of information. He did not understand what could be missing; sparklings were fairly simple. Perhaps if the sparkling could transform…

"Come here, little one."

The sparkling must have heard the difference in tone, because this time he reluctantly left his new find to toddle towards Megatron. The warlord was a bit unsure how to get the Predacon to transform, but he was pretty certain teaching through example would work. It could take a while, what with both of them being completely new to the situation, but anything could be done with a bit of diligence.

"You will learn how to transform, perhaps not today, but in time. Watch closely, young Predacon."

The sun was still rising, already reaching out to the facility. Even so, he wouldn't attract attention in even the brightest light of mid-cycle, for the area was quite deserted. The giant mech sauntered assuredly towards the edge of the take-off deck, listening to the little clicks indicating the Predacon's curiosity towards Megatron's intentions. Good, it wouldn't do for a lesson to be wasted by simple distraction.

Megatron propelled himself forwards suddenly, careening off the edge and into the open air. He registered the Predacon's squeal of alarm before he transformed mid-fall and blasted off, thrusters roaring powerfully, splitting the morning air with sound. Quickly Megatron doubled back to make sure the sparkling hadn't jumped after him, and was satisfied to see the shape of the little dragon still on the take-off deck. It jumped around as Megatron circled the deck from a distance, and he could just barely hear it chirping excitedly.

Pleased that he had the sparkling's interest for the moment, Megatron allowed himself to do a few simple maneuvers, if only just for show. The jet swooped low, breaking the sound barrier in a burst of power. He pulled up, barreling skywards, feeling the sun glint off his plating. Clouds parted for him, the air whistling below the thrum of his engines. It was almost euphoric; it was almost unbearable. Flying had always been that way for the warlord, only a means to an end. Just like with everything else, like how it used to be.

He wondered if he could actually try enjoying it, now.

Megatron dove down to the deck, circling before transforming and landing with a loud thud. The Predacon sparkling was squawking with delight, prancing forwards to jump around Megatron's peds, obviously taken with the performance. The giant mech gave a short chuckle despite himself, crouching down to pick up the excited sparkling, holding him in both servos.

The Predacon stared up at Megatron, the bright, golden optics almost burning with eagerness. He batted his wings and chirped determinably, turning in circles occasionally as they made their way back into the facility. If Megatron didn't know any better, he would think the Predacon was already attempting to fly. The sparkling could glide, yes, but true flight would not come for a while. Not exactly what he had intended for the sparkling to come away with, but it was enough for now.

"You will be able to fly in time, little one. For now, we must focus on other things. There is much to do before this place can truly become livable."

The Predacon settled down slightly, but Megatron could almost see the small processor working, a simple yet sharp intelligence shining through the small, golden optics.

The Predacon sparkling was still feeding at least twice through the night-cycle, so it was no surprise to Megatron when he was pulled from recharge by an insistent thumping on his chassis and two golden optics. It was a routine he was growing accustomed to, even if he always had the urge to stuff the little Predacon into some cage for the rest of the night-cycle after.

He flinched, slightly, pain radiating through his shoulders and chassis. Having been awoken from getting his 'arms' sawed off, the agonizing pain, terror, and helplessness was still present. Even though Megatron was aware of himself, it seemed the effects of interrupted 'dreams' lingered longer than those of completed ones. He gritted his denta and willed the pain and foreign emotions away, terror evaporating into a simmering rage, Megatron's small, twisted comfort.

The clunking on his chassis started up again, and he hadn't realized it ever stopped. Normally the sparkling would continue until Megatron sat up, trying the warlord's patience to terrifying degrees.

He peered through dimmed optics, realizing that something was off. The golden optics were higher up, as if the sparkling were taller…

A small, high-pitched voice brought Megatron out of his post-recharge stupor completely.

 _"Feed."_

Megatron blinked at the sight before him. It was still the sparkling sitting on his chassis, he knew, but in bipedal mode. Two golden optics peered down from under a horned helm, illuminating a small faceplate. The sparkling furrowed an eyebrow impatiently, and a tiny servo began to smack against Megatron's chassis again. He just stared as the sparkling spoke again.

"Feed. _Feed!_ "

Suddenly Megatron realized what it was that had been niggling at the back of his processor, the certain aspect to the Predacon that had been missing. In the beginning Megatron had referred to the sparkling as an ' _it_ ', then later as a mech, a ' _he'._ The Predacon wasn't a 'he' at all, but a _she._ The Predacon sparkling was a _femme_. And she was not happy about Megatron's lack of movement, if the furrowing-pout and fist banging were any indication.

"Feed, feed, feed, feed, feed, _feed…_!"

Megatron growled and removed the agitated sparkling from his chassis, sitting up and moving to retrieve an energon crystal for the impatient little thing. He set her down on a desk, and the sparkling scooted forwards to dangle her little pedes off the side. She made a happy noise when Megatron handed her an energon crystal, wasting no time in chomping off a large piece, crunching loudly. Her pedes kicked happily as she ate, her big optics glowing as she stared up at Megatron.

The sparkling had figured out how to transform. Something welled up behind his chassis; warm, akin to pride. The warlord frowned. It was impressive that the little femme had learned to transform so fast, but he needed to stay detached. Megatron _wanted_ to stay detached. Yet the warmth persisted, an itch behind his chassis, unable to be forced away. It was concerning.

He pushed it from his mind and pulled a box in front of her, sitting down and watching as she finished the crystal. Megatron replaced it with another before she could start chanting 'feed' again, observing her with growing interest. Genders had been deemed obsolete eons upon eons ago; Femmes were a genetic leftover, the remnants of a time when frames were forged within gestation chambers.

Although femmes still existed, they did not have the ability to pro-create as their ancestors did. This femme, a clone created from an impossibly archaic era on Cybertron, a time when gestation was the only option for new life…

No doubt she was one of many, designed by Shockwave to be perfect hosts for the new Predacon army Predaking so badly wanted. If so, Megatron could only conclude…

…That this femme had been faulty, and was promptly, although ineffectively, discarded.

The thought came unbidden, and the warlord pushed it away. Megatron doubted Predaking would send any Predacon to it's destruction, much less a helpless sparkling.

Curiously enough, the thought of this sparkling being thrown away made him slightly upset, a string of whispered emotions the warlord refused to encourage. In the end it didn't really matter where the sparkling had come from or why. The warlord deemed it best to stay in the present, and presently the sparkling was falling into recharge on her fifth piece of crystal.

The sparkling was still munching, but she kept nodding off, her optics dimming and body slumping before she caught herself and started all over again. Megatron took the crystal from her servos, ignoring the half-hearted attempts to stop him. The sparkling stopped struggling when he picked her up, simply choosing to curl up in the giant servos. Megatron paused, looking down at the warm bundle he was holding. Instead of feeling amused at how at ease the sparkling was in his giant, battle worn servos, he was starting to feel almost… awed.

Megatron grimaced, shaking the feeling off. Since taking in the sparkling the warlord had been fighting these feelings of fondness. Such emotions were useless to him, even now. While his vivid experiences taken from the sparks of the deceased had awoken his conscious, it had only affirmed his notions that any emotion akin to affection was a debilitating weakness. The excruciating pain of loss held no equal in all of the dark memories he inherited from the dead.

The mechs who died trying to save another, to preserve a bond… Those mechs had the strongest and most agonizing emotions. Megatron wanted nothing to do with such weakening emotions, be it from shared memories or otherwise. To ever experience that agony personally… He chose not to.

There was no merit in feeling attached, of feeling affection, of feeling pride for no logical reason…

But then again, there also had been no point in saving the sparkling, all those cycles ago.

The warlord grimaced and took the sparkling to his berth, settling her on his chassis, her regular spot. He refrained from rubbing her wings, another frustrating habit, but could not contain the tinge of growing affection, gently spreading like a mounting illness through his spark. Megatron sighed. There was just no stopping it, he couldn't force himself back to the comfortable detachment, and the thought wore him down to his protoform. He was in too deep.

Frustration welled with the rising internal struggle. Megatron had always known who he was, confident even when under the most crushing pressure. Even Unicron had not had the pleasure of seeing the warlord truly crack. Detachment had been one of Megatron's ultimate advantages. There was nothing for him to lose, the closest thing to invincibility, and now…

The little femme whimpered, drawing the warlord from his thoughts with a frown. Her peds and servos twitched, scratching at Megatron's chassis in jerky movements. For a moment he did nothing, confused. Then, like a shot to the helm, he realized the sparkling was no doubt experiencing a nightmare. It jarred him, striking close to home. She shouldn't have nightmares. Megatron was the haunted one, the one to recharge in discontent, not her.

Without a second thought the warlord tenderly traced her wings with a digit, and hummed an old tune softly. It was a song he hadn't heard or even thought of in eons, since before his time in the pits. Yet the melody rolled through his chassis, deep and resonant, as if he never forgot it.

He wanted to stop.

He didn't.

Even after the sparkling had settled, recharging peacefully once more, Megatron continued. It was both comforting and unsettling to hear the song again in the pitch darkness, the gentle sound resonating off the walls. The warlord had forgotten this, how at ease he could be in the closed-in blackness, a simple melody the only evidence of life.

Old memories resurfaced. He let them pass; considering, humming, rubbing tiny circles on even tinier wing joints. He was something before a gladiator, a revolutionary, a warmonger. Never did he think he would look back, never had he wanted to, not even now.

It was a time before he cut ties, a time before detachment. A time when he was still connected. Megatron wasn't ready to go back just yet, but the memories struck a chord of inspiration. The warlord's dimmed optics glowed to life as he gazed down at the sparkling, a content smile curling her liplates. It left as a hoarse whisper, a fierce pause from the rumbling melody.

"Your designation is Ustrina Deia."

She did not hear. He did not mind. No real thoughts came to his processor, a welcome state nowadays. The warlord hummed the tune again, melodic vibrations now more comforting than not. They lay there, unlikely as ever; a misplaced sparkling recharging soundly on the chassis of a weary warlord, both lulled by the echoes of an ancient mining song. Megatron smirked humorlessly.

Oh, how the mighty fall.


End file.
